


Stitched Together

by lilypea



Series: Ficmas 2014 [21]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Sickfic, knitting!!!, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 18:09:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2821439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilypea/pseuds/lilypea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye is trying her hand at knitting, as influenced by Simmons, which comes in handy when a certain someone gets ill (not that he'd ever admit it).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stitched Together

Ward looked up from his book to see Skye, her tongue poking out between her lips in concentration as she fiddled with the bunch of purple yarn and needles in her lap, making soft frustrated noises

“What wrong?” he asked, dropping his book on the coffee table and taking a seat next to her.

“I’m trying to cast off, but it’s just not _happening_ ,” she groaned, thrusting her knitting onto the seat on her other side and crossing her arms.

“Okay, come on,” Ward encouraged her, rubbing her knee as he leant over to collect her work in progress. He held it by the needles and let it unfurl. “Skye, this is really good for your first go.”

“Really?” she asked doubtfully, chin buried in her chest.

“Yeah, I mean, it only has one hole,” he complimented, poking his finger through the tiny mistake.

“Well it’s one more hole than Simmons’ scarf has.”

“Simmons has just had more practice. Plus, she’s a genius. She probably cheats.”

He finally got a smile out of her. She held out her hands and took the scarf back, continuing her struggle as Ward headed to the kitchen to get coffee.

A couple of minutes later, Skye came bounding in with the finished item in her arms. She held it up in front of him, showing it off.

“You know, I’m quite happy with it. The hole gives it…character.”

“Indeed it does,” he said passing her and leaving a kiss on her head.

*** The next day ***

Ward was lying on his back, doing his best to breathe slowly and steadily. Skye was tucked into his side, still asleep in his tiny bunk. It was half past seven already, but Skye had managed to establish a rule on the Bus that no one should have to get out of bed before eight on a Sunday. In any case, something felt wrong.

Ward was usually the picture of health, so needless to say he didn’t really know what getting sick felt like, or how to deal with it. So he wasn’t quite sure what the clogging of his throat and the slight ache in his head meant, other than that he probably had a bad night’s sleep.

Skye let out a high-pitched yawn and stretched, pressing up against him. 

“”Morning,” she muttered, still not awake enough for a whole sentence.

“Good morning,” he replied, trying to sound as normal as he could.

“Woah, what’s up with your voice?” She was suddenly fully alert at the possibility of a crisis, and sat up, looking down at him sternly.

“Nothing,” he insisted, breathing through his nose.

“Did you just _sniffle_?”

He shut his eyes, already defeated. He’d been in this position with Skye before, so he knew that there was absolutely no point in denying the undeniable, as much as he’d liked to.

Before he could say anything, she was up and out the door, feet pattering on the carpet. Was she scared he was going to make her sick? Was she telling Coulson? He wasn’t sure he could handle either of those things right now.

She returned to his side promptly, without Coulson, putting his fears to rest. He could make out lumpy shapes of the things she was holding in the darkness.

“What have you got?”

She switched on the lamp, momentarily blinding him. Once his eyes adjusted, he saw she’d placed some cold medicine down next to him. In her arms was the scarf she’d finished the day before, folded neatly.

“Sit up for me,” she demanded, softly. She got very firm when he was ill.

He did as he was told and ended up with the scarf wrapped snugly around his neck. He raised an eyebrow at her in an unspoken question.

“It’s almost Christmas, we don’t want you to get any sicker.” She climbed back into bed next to him. “I was knitting that for you anyway.”

He usually would have been more than a little put off by being expected to wear a bright purple scarf, but under the circumstances, he appreciated it.

“Thank you, Skye,” he croaked, rubbing her back.

“You’re welcome.”


End file.
